The Moonwatcher
by Urban Twilight
Summary: AU A tyrant prince hidden behind the facade of benevolence. A hidden secret that, when revealed, will bring about the destruction and rebirth of an Empire. There is only one who may wield the sword the protects.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** This is merely a product of my insane love of fantasy and RKRurouni Kenshin does not in any way, shape or form, belong to me. The honor belongs to Watsuki-sensei.

_The __Moonwatcher_

By Urban Twilight

**Prologue**

Note: This is AU, so I have taken my fair share of artistic license and have horribly mutilated the RK plot. OOCness will occasionally rear its ugly head, but I will try to keep it at bay by keeping the character's as authentic as possible. I still hope you enjoy. Loosely inspired by the film "The Man in the Iron Mask".

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Amber eyes glowed in the darkness. His face was shrouded, his long hair tangled and knotted around his thin face. His clothes were torn, muddied by the damp and the dirt. A smudged and dented tray lay in the corner, nothing remaining of his daily meal that had been delivered a few hours ago after sunset. It was nighttime now, and he could see the corner of the moon as it slowly crept towards the window set in the ceiling. It shed a strange, distilled light through the bars of the cell, casting darks shadows, illuminating the few mice the scurried around in the corners.

He was used to all of this, but still he tilted his head slightly to catch sight of the moon that hovered in the sky. It was almost full, he mused. The moon was the only proof that time was passing for him anymore. He relied on it to tell him that he was still alive, that he hadn't died to only remain here, in this dungeon cell. Alone with his regrets.

He would have gone crazy long ago if it wasn't for the moon…

- - - -

The City had once been prosperous; the center of the world of trade and the arts. The roads were said to be paved with gold and diamonds, and in some respects, they almost were. Merchants came and sold their goods there, their carts laden with exotic fabrics, intricate pottery and filigree. The people were content, proud to know that they belonged and attributed to the City. Even the lower classes had been satisfied with their status, comfortable with the role they played in society, and they lived comfortably on even what was considered the lowest income. The richer classes were happy to spend their time managing their land, making sure that the wheat fields were growing tall and golden, and the same with their money. It wasn't the perfect place, but everyone still benefitted from the prosperity.

For over three centuries the City had been like that, a well organized structure that anyone could profit from. The tall and regal buildings are still there, a memento of what they had once had. The libraries and the museums still stood, but little were ever used and very few people could benefit from the knowledge that was kept there anyway.

It had started with a drought that had ravaged for hundreds of miles around. Only the City had managed to avoid disaster as the hard-worn farmers came from all around to buy their goods. The King's coffers enlarged, but he was a kind king to his people and made sure that his people did not suffer too greatly. However, with prosperity comes envy, and soon envy turned into jealousy. The outer countries plotted and schemed, their eyes were always turned to City, just imagining what they could do with it in their grasps…

The King was troubled, for he did not want his City to be ravaged by war, which it would surely come to. He thought, maybe, if they had a weapon intimidating enough to scare them off forever, a weapon so strong that it would guarantee his City's safety for all time…

As the threat grew stronger, and the outer countries grew bolder with their plans to conquer the City, the King knew that hope for a peaceful resolution was useless. He prepared his troops for the oncoming war. He sent his young son, an inquisitive child with deep violet eyes, to the East, where he knew the skilled warriors there would protect him. The deportation of the Prince was kept secret, and the King sent his most skilled and trusted soldiers with the Prince, giving them strict instructions to protect him at all costs.

However, the King's plans were discovered, and he knew without a doubt when only one wounded soldier returned to him, what must have happened. His son's carriage had been intercepted by enemy troops, their descent far too swift and unexpected for the soldiers to have retaliated in time. The King grieved for his son, but swore that he would no longer balk at the thought of war, and that whoever attempted to fight him would be destroyed under his fury.

War came very quickly to the City after that, the enemies confident after their successful attack on the prince, and the King burning with grief and anger. For nine years the war raged, and not a day passed when a house wasn't burning, when children weren't afraid to go outdoors, when the bloody rain didn't fall. The City was decimated. The markets could no longer be fruitful if they were also a battlefield, and innocent bystanders were often killed by a blade or cannons. The soldiers saw the peasants that lived in the City as cattle, petty bystanders, and could care less if their swords were stained with their blood. Day time was no longer safe, and to go outside during the night was suicide. No one truly knew what lurked in the shadows, or who was hiding in the alleyways, waiting….waiting….

A month after the New Year, the beginning of the tenth year of the war, the people finally saw a glimpse of what the King had been hoping for. Something so strong that his legacy would haunt the City for all time. Whispers suddenly ghosted through the City, and eventually they travelled to the other countries, other cities. Even in small towns was his name not known? His sword was said to bring the justice of heaven, and to look into his piercing amber eyes surely meant death. He was said to move faster than the gods, his speed quicker than the eye could follow.

They called him the Hitokiri. The Manslayer. Battousai. The master of the sword of heavenly Justice,and the best swordsman that the City had ever had.

No one ever saw him, for those that did never escaped alive. At the beginning, some old women would gossip to each other that he was a myth, a bluff created by the King to bring doubt to enemy troops. Some people believed that he truly existed, and no one believed more than those who felt the pain of losing a loved one to his blade. They said that he was a vassal of the King, given the job of being his shadow assassin.

Some said that he was the King himself, taking his City's safety into his own hands and destroying anyone who opposed him.

But no one doubted his existence when the Hitokiri Battousai finally came forth from the shadows, his sword brandished high, ready to defend the City and their brave soldiers. No one ever saw more than his eyes, for he always wore a long dark blue cloak, the hood pulled tightly over his head and his face obscured by a black velvet mask, no different than the one's present at many festivals. But his eyes shone fierce and golden through the mask, striking terror faster than lighting into the heart of all who saw him. He cut through the enemy lines like a demon, and people who witnessed his battles were haunted by the memory forever. If people had doubted before the power of one person, they no longer harbored such doubts.

On the dawn of the fifth of May-- known in history as the Battle of Cherry Blossoms, for they had begun to bloom during that time--the King's soldiers, accompanied of course by the Hitokiri, marched to the camp of the remaining enemy troops. Once they had destroyed the last of the soldiers there, the King knew that the outer countries would have no choice but to surrender. Victory was so close, seemed so easy, that the King himself rode with his troops, confident that the day was won.

And it was, for his soldiers left a trail of corpses behind them, the blood falling with the cherry blossoms on that morning.

But they did have their own share of casualties. Many of their own died that day as well, and one of their many fallen was their beloved King. The glorious battle was also the beginning of a period of grief for the City, and despite the fact that they were no longer a war, how could they possibly recuperate without their cherished leader, and without an heir to take his place?

And then the most treasonous rumor begun in the City, for it was whispered in the street corners and bars that King had been murdered, certainly, but not by an enemy, but by one of his own people…

Battousai was blamed for his death, accused that his bloodthirsty nature had caused his blade to turn upon his King in some twisted sort of vengeance. And it was true, that after the last battle Battousai had disappeared from the peoples' sight, and had not been seen or heard of from anyone. It was all the proof that they needed, for why would a war hero disappear if he hadn't committed a more treacherous act?

A month later, amidst the turmoil that surrounded them, a bright light shone through their despair. A messenger ran all through the City, down every road and every alleyway. His message was full of hope and redemption for the City, and the exact words of that messenger was: "Our Prince had returned, and has brought the hated Manslayer with him! Rejoice, because our Prince will bring heaven's retribution to the murderer!"

Everyone in the City flew from their homes, and gathered in front of the palace gates, hoping for a glimpse of their Prince who had been absent for so long. They were not disappointed, for hanging suspended on the castles walls was the Hitokiri himself, his masked face bent down in exhaustion, his body so limp that he appeared dead. The Prince stood below the exposed assassin, his eyes a hard metallic blue colder than the winter sky. His hair was wild and red against the grayness of the castle, and his features were a stark contrast against the faces of the soldiers around him.

His voice rang loud and clear, "My people, I have returned from a month of hunting down my father's killer, and here he is presented before you, shamed and humiliated! Truly you're Prince must be a god himself, to have brought down such a feared criminal!"

Cries of joy and pride echoed through the streets, and a few well aimed rocks managed to connect with the body of the hanging man.

"I have been gone far too long, and I assure you that my reign will make our City even greater than before! I will surpass my father in strength and in greatness, and I swear to you that I will turn our City into an Empire!

"I shall first show you my strength by bringing the Battousai his rightful reprisal!"

The people shouted for an execution, a beheading, a burning, they wanted to drink his blood and to crush his bones. To them, their bloodlust could not be satiated, and their shouts for him to suffer would not be quelled.

The Prince raised a hand, and the City became quiet.

In the stillness that surrounded the people, the Prince's footsteps seemed much louder and echoed grimly as he strode nearer to the Hitokiri. With a slight wave of his hand the criminal was lowered, until his feet hovered a few inches above the ground. The Prince reached up and clamped his hands around the Battousai's chin, tilting his head to right, exposing his left cheek. Those with keen eyesight could see that beyond the tattered remains of the shadow assassin's mask where two long scars that formed a perfect X on his left cheek. The blood was still running from the wound down his face, pooling along the length of his collarbone.

"He will be forever marked for his crimes, and this scar shall be a symbol of our hatred for him! Look upon it, and remember what he has done and how we will make him suffer for it!

"Death is less than is deserving for such as he, and I vow to you that he shall receive nothing less than what he deserves! He shall rot in his pain and misery for his heinous crimes and suffer for every life that he took. Forget the name Hitokiri Battousai, for he is nothing compared to your Prince!"

Cries once again reverberated through the courtyard and did not stop until the Prince had turned around and disappeared into the palace. They were left only with the assassin to mock and abuse. For two more days the Battousai was left on display, his wound never ceasing to bleed. On the dawn of the third day, he had disappeared, and was never seen again by the people of the City.

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A/N: So, what do you think? Slightly darker than I intended, but I hope that it is not too confusing. Thanks for reading! I will be putting up the first chapter as well, just because I want to get the story flowing a little bit more, and to introduce some more of the plot.

-Urban


	2. Descent

**Disclaimer:** -snorts- As if I'm actually smart enough to have thought up Rurouni Kenshin. Ha! It is to laugh!

_The __Moonwatcher_

By Urban Twilight

**Chapter 1: ****Descent**

Note: This is AU, so expect some OOCness to pop up in unexpected places. Just don't run away.

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Kaoru was trying to be as silent as possible as she jogged down the corridor, her sandals making almost no noise at all against the soft carpet that adorned the floor. If she inclined her head slightly, she could make out the patterns that were stitched intricately into the fabrics; irises, roses, poppies and white plums, surrounded by rain drops and vines that weaved through the blossoms. This was the Lady's wing of the palace, and that was the designs that she favored. Wide windows adorned the walls at measured intervals, the smooth glass allowing the sun to spread its long fingers of light into the corridor.

There was really no reason for Kaoru to be so cautious, but she was on a mission. It would have probably have been less conspicuous is she wasn't wearing her training outfit, and didn't have her sword secured on her left hip, but she had never been one to plan her actions carefully beforehand. If it was any consolation, she supposed that hadn't had very much time to prepare anyways.

Really, this was silly. But Kaoru had agreed to do this and she was going to go through with it, even if it caused trouble for her. Which it would, if she was found out.

She turned around the next corner, and let herself slow down slightly so that she would have time to appreciate this specific corridor. She always stopped here; it was her favorite place inside the castle. The walls were adorned with beautiful oil paintings, of the castle at sunrise, of brooks that seemed to babble silently within their frames, of beautiful noblewomen having a picnic under a shady tree.

The most intriguing of the paintings stood out from the rest in color and texture. While the others were filled with vibrant colors and sunshine, this one was clouded and filled with tension. Someone, Kaoru couldn't remember who it was, had once told her that the painting was of the tallest mountain in the East, and that the Prince had had it painted for him after the War had ended. She knew that for 11 years the Prince had lived there and learned his unique and powerful sword technique… She wondered if he had seen that mountain every day while he was in training, and once again she wished that she could at least one time see the Prince do battle. Her own style of swordsmanship came from similar origins; her father was born and raised in the East until he had came to the City seeking the peace that was lacking in his home country. Her style was based on preserving life, but she knew that the style of swordsmanship more common in the East was the art of killing.

She was approaching the painting now, and she could feel her heart speed up with the majesty of the painting. The clouds that shivered around the mountain peak were shadowed and threatening, and she almost expected a bolt of lighting to split the sky. It held a wild sort of beauty, that tall and imposing mountain was not suited to be confined within the small space of the picture frame.

She supposed that the same could be described of the Prince. He too, was not suited to the confines of royal life. Perhaps, he wished to have a piece of the wilderness in the palace, a reminder of his time in the East… She could imagine him by that mountain, swinging his sword in a graceful but deadly arc over his head, his hair wild and free, his eyes gleaming with the unbridled spirit and charisma that he possessed. Their Prince, the man who had defeated the greatest swordsman the City had ever had…

She moved on past the painting, knowing that her room was not too far now. The palace was vast, but she had lived there ever since her father had died. Her job in the palace was important to her; she needed it to feed herself and to care for Yahiko, her brother. But the room they had offered her was practically useless since she preferred to sleep in her own house, the house that she had been born in. But for practicality's sake, she had been assigned a room, conveniently near the Lady's so she could stay be there quickly if it was necessary. Out of the many ladies-in-waiting that the Lady possessed, Kaoru was one of the few who knew any form of fighting skill, and therefore regarded as vital for the Lady's protection.

The hallway curved again, and Kaoru skidded to a stop and almost fell over as she tried to fling herself away in the opposite direction. Someone was there, looking at one of the paintings! She hoped fervently that they hadn't seen or heard her, and though they gave away no signs that they were aware of her presence, she knew that any well-trained warrior would give away no such signs. She peered around the edge of the corridor and almost sighed with relief. She knew who it was, and she knew that this person would not be suspicious of her.

She wished that she was wearing some nicer clothes, but the situation couldn't be helped. She knew that she would have done fine with a dress, but she felt more like herself in these clothes. She felt like Kaoru, and not like Lady Kamiya.

She walked slowly around the corner, as if she had just been passing through the corridor to admire the paintings at her own leisure. She made sure not to make any eye contact with the woman in front of her, but she still felt the tingling that she always felt when someone was watching her.

She curtsied as well as she could in her leggings. "Lady Tomoe," she stated in recognition before she continued on, "Can I be of service to my Lady?"

The Lady Tomoe was beautiful, even in the plainest gowns that she had. Kaoru was surprised that she had risen so early, and even more surprised that she had already been tended to and dressed. Her hair was gathered up on her head, the thick locks held in place by hundreds of silver pins that shone and twinkled. Her gown was creamy white, embroidered intricately with red and blue threads. The front tapered down to a point, accenting Tomoe's small waist and hourglass figure. And, of course, her usual violet shawl was draped across her back, giving her a serene and peaceful look. Her eyes were darker than the deepest ocean, unfathomable and emotionless as the Lady nodded her head at Kaoru. Her skin was smooth and pearly white, her face perfectly symmetrical and her lips curving attractively even when she wasn't smiling. The Lady Tomoe never smiled, not even at her fiancé, the Prince.

Tomoe turned to look back at the painting. "I am merely enjoying the morning. You are here early, Lady Kamiya."

_Damn,_ Kaoru cursed to herself. _I forgot how __observant__ she can be. Oh, I hope I'm not too late!_

"The morning was too beautiful to waste, and I wished to have an early start on the day," Kaoru replied, almost too quickly.

Tomoe nodded in agreement, and adjusted her shawl that draped over her arms. The Lady Tomoe had been living in the palace even before the Prince had announced their betrothal three years ago, and she had always been a jewel among the noblewomen. In following the City's custom, their wedding was to be held five years after the betrothal. Five for the number of their sacred gods, five for the number of gifts the Prince was demanded to give her, five for the number of wedding songs to be sung, and five for the number of oaths they were bound to give each other. Five was a sacred and special number, full of secrets and held all the knowledge of the world to the people of the City.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Kaoru envied her. She was destined to be rich and influential, loved by her people. But mostly, Kaoru felt pity for her. The Lady was treated like a delicate flower- treasured, yes – but also stifled. Kaoru felt that if she had the same fate, she would wither with the weight of responsibility and monotony of palace life. And to be married to the Prince…

The Lady caught sight of her sword, and Kaoru fidgeted slightly under her gaze. Tomoe's perfectly sculpted brow arched slightly over her lashes and her cool, ringing voice echoed through the hallways once again.

"Sparring this morning, I assume?"

Kaoru curtsied once more, using it as an excuse to shield her face from Tomoe's piercing gaze.

"I was, milady," she replied. Tomoe nodded and looked away again, but didn't dismiss her.

Kaoru suddenly sensed the tension surrounding the Lady, who usually was so calm and collected.

Tomoe closed her eyes slowly, a troubled look passing over her smooth features. Her hand fluttered slightly at her side, like a hummingbird's wing.

"Lady Kamiya…" she said, her voice sounding no different than before, and as Kaoru blinked, Tomoe's face seemed to return back to normal.

"There is something I may require of you." Kaoru cursed inwardly, hoping that it wasn't a task that would distract her from her current "mission".

However, her voice was steady as she curtsied (again, damn it!) and replied, "Whatever you may need, Lady."

"I am currently trying to find my brother. You do not happen to know where he may be? When I inquired to it, I was informed that his bed appeared not to have been slept in last night."

Kaoru _had _seen Enishi, but she knew better than to tell Tomoe this piece of information. She had seen him slipping off yesterday evening, garbed in peasant's clothing and sneaking out through a crack in the stone wall that lay hidden behind a thick patch of bushes. Kaoru didn't know how Enishi had discovered the secret entrance, but she hadn't known of its existence until she had met Misao.

Enishi was always sneaking off, and the more permanent residences of the castle had learned to ignore it. He always came back, unharmed, and Tomoe was the only one who worried about it. Even the Prince didn't concern himself with his fiancée's younger brother's comings and goings.

Kaoru didn't say anything, and Tomoe gaze became more detached.

"I see," she said coolly. "You are dismissed."

Kaoru shot a worried glance behind her shoulder as she hurried off, not even bothering to apologize for her ineptitude. But she was in a hurry, after all.

As soon as she had turned around the next corner, she sped up into a sprint and flung open the next door on her left. Turned a few more corners, and dashed towards the more derelict door that was the entrance to her room.

She quickly scanned the room for any intruders – Misao would kill her if she didn't—and breathed a sigh of relief as she found it empty.

Her room was large; though the space was mostly filled up by a four poster bed that was covered with soft lilac colored sheets. A door on the side led into a small bath room, filled with bottles of her preferred perfume and a small tub for soaking. In the corner was a tiny vanity table, hardly ever used, but it was beautiful in its own way. The mahogany wood was intricately carved with flowers (for this was still Tomoe's part of the palace) and added a nice touch to the atmosphere of the room. But what Kaoru enjoyed most about her unused room was the closet, a large and encompassing space that was filled to the brim with dresses she wore rarely, but it was still a sign of her status within the palace and she enjoyed just walking in it to admire the size of it. It made her feel slightly vain, but she needed _some_ satisfaction from her job, didn't she?

Kaoru strode towards her bed, and pulled out a rope of coiled rope from under it. She had hidden it there yesterday after she had visited Yahiko, and had made sure that it was kept hidden under the loose floorboard under her bed. Pulling out the entire length of the rope, she secured one end to leg of her bed, knotting it tightly. She gathered up the rest of the rough material in her arms and deposited it in front of the window. The curtains that framed it were dusty, and it took a few moments to loosen them enough so that she could reach the latch, and she began to cough as she inhaled a mouthful of soot. After her coughing fit had subsided, she wiggled the latch on the window slightly until it had loosened enough to swing it open.

The morning air was still crisp from the dew and sunshine, and she breathed in slightly as a westward wind gusted into her room. She tipped her head over the window, attempting to see something hidden within the trees that brushed and swayed against the side of the castle, but saw nothing. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small rose. It was crumpled from being inside her pocket for so long, and some of the petals fell to the floor through her fingers. She dropped the flowed out her window, and waited. The rose disappeared within the branches of one the trees, and she waited some more.

She almost didn't see it, but reacted in time as the sun glistened off the pointed edge of the kunai as it arced towards her through the window. She caught it between her fingers, wincing slightly as the knife stopped inches away from her ear. A few severed strands of hairs floated down from her bangs.

"Hmmph," she sighed. And then Kaoru tossed the rest of the rope down the side, hoping that Misao would hurry up since the bright color of the rope would surely stand out from the grey of the castle wall.

She didn't have to wait to long, as the petite girl soon hopped over the windowsill without a care in the world, and in less than a minute to boot. Kaoru rolled her eyes, but helped Misao gather up the rest of the rope and closed the window after it.

Misao's genki vibes were rolling of her in waves, and Kaoru wished that she hadn't agreed to be the tour guide of the weasel girl.

It sucked majorly that she was just beginning to regret this _now_…

Her sudden bad mood was apparent in her voice. "Did we have to be so dramatic, Misao? I mean honestly, a rose as a signal? That is so… so… cliché."

Misao smiled chidingly at her, and flounced over to Kaoru's bed.

"But it was a good idea, right?" she drawled back. "I mean, if anyone was looking they probably thought I was your lover or something, right? What with the rose and all."

Kaoru snorted. "Sure, and then said lover tries to spear me with a kunai. Very romantic."

Misao bounced a few times on the bed and said absentmindedly, "This is a very comfortable bed, you know. I don't know why you complain about it so much."

"Misao!"

"Okay, okay! I'm just saying, you know. And anyways, it's not like I could have thrown the rose up into your window, I'm not that skilled. The kunai was just the easiest thing."

Kaoru sighed and rubbed behind her ear distractedly. "Well, do you think next time you could try aiming a little better? You almost took my ear off.

"And another thing! Do you honestly think that if any one did see us, that they would continue to think that I had some hidden suitor after they saw a ten-year-old climbing up into my room?"

"I'm sixteen, and you know it!" Misao replied heatedly, jumping off her bed in distain.

Kaoru stuck her tongue out at the enraged weasel and retorted, "You hardly look like you've hit puberty, _Miss_ Misao."

Misao turned her head away and made a show of looking haughty.

"You don't have very good security around here. I had to knock out a grand total of one guard that was hanging around too closely."

Kaoru rolled her eyes. "The security is the tightest _inside_ the palace. The Prince is more concerned about keeping intruders inside then not letting them get in at all. I wasn't joking when I told you that the hardest part would be getting around unnoticed, and then getting back out.

"Speaking of that, you'll have to change clothes. I managed to nick some from a servant boy that is about your size. I'm sure that your current clothing would be a dead giveaway." Her tone was dead serious and dared Misao to protest. She didn't want to have to deal with a temper tantrum from Misao right now. It would only attract attention.

Misao looked down at her black leggings and dark blue cloak that covered most of her body. Her long hair dangled down in a braid and her hands were subtly concealed by elbow-long gloves under her tunic. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?" she inquired.

Kaoru sighed and tossed the bundle of clothes that she pulled out from a drawer. Misao had no trouble catching it, but wrinkled her nose in disgust at the threadbare clothing.

"You said they were a servant's? That's gross, not to mention insulting! I bet these haven't been washed in years!"

"I made sure that they were clean. You look more like a boy than a girl anyways, so just do it," Kaoru commanded. Misao looked like she was about to protest against the insult, but instead complied unwillingly, but only because the look on Kaoru's face promised no compromises.

Misao threw her cloak and other articles of clothing at Kaoru, who immediately buried them behind layers of thick clothing in her closet. She locked the closet door behind her, knowing that it was unlikely that they would be returning to her room after they left.

In the short time it took Misao to change, Kaoru anxiousness had turned into a cold kind of dread. She wiped her hands casually on her thighs to get rid of some of the nervous sweat that had collected there, and then signaled Misao to follow behind her to the door.

The hinges were far from silent as Kaoru slowly inched the door open, and she peered quickly in each direction before sliding smoothly out of her room. Misao was a silent shadow behind her. She led them in the opposite direction from which she had came, peering over her shoulder every now and then to make sure Misao was still behind her. The weasel girl in question would lift her eyebrows haughtily every time Kaoru executed this nervous action. Kaoru would sneer back. She still wasn't in the best of moods to put up with Misao little quirks.

They turned a corner, and the change was obvious; if the décor has anything to say about it. Gone were the delicate blossoms that had adorned the previous corridors, and had been replaced with the cold gray of the stone walls. The tall, arching widows were downsized to mere portholes, the glass thick and poorly made; the uneven surface allowing a thin, distilled light to create shifting patterns on the bare floor. Kaoru could hear her footsteps echoing down the length of the hall.

She could hear the gears shifting in her head before Misao had a chance to open her mouth, and Kaoru turned around swiftly to shoot her most scathing glare at the young girl.

"Not now," she hissed. Misao looked confused, but Kaoru just sped up her pace.

To the unobservant eye, the section of wall that Kaoru began to run her hands over was indiscernible from the rest of the unadorned stone. Kaoru pressed her face closer to the cold granite, her eyes searching for something the Misao obviously could not see. The only way Misao realized that Kaoru had found what she had been looking for was the triumphant hiss that escaped her lips.

The doorway that suddenly appeared in the wall may have had something to do with it too… It was as if some invisible had had peeled back the layer of bricks and pushed it aside like some rocky form of the Red Sea. She didn't know what exactly Kaoru had done, but Misao was only just beginning to realize that the castle may have contained many more secrets than she had previously thought… She definitely knew that this alcove wasn't on map of the castle _she _had ever seen.

Kaoru quickly ushered her inside, and the bricks began to meld seamlessly with the wall once again.

They were inside a small alcove, with a wooden door on one end (connecting to another passage, surely), sparsely furnished with a wooden table and a thick plush carpet on the side. Kaoru lowered herself wearily into one of the chairs and rubbed her eyes. She seemed terribly tired all of a sudden. It clashed with Misao abundant energy.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Misao?"

She sighed. "I don't have a choice. Lord Aoshi gave me the job. I have to do this."

Kaoru mumbled something under her breath that sounded awfully like "curse that stupid, idiotic statue," but Misao decided to ignore that.

"So you need to go down into the dungeons, right? Do you have any idea how difficult that's going to be?"

Misao grinned wryly. "I think I have an idea about how hard it will be."

Kaoru shot her another glare again. "Why do you need to go down there anyways? They only keep criminals down there, not the prince's coffers or anything like that."

Her grin turned into a sly sneer. "I can't tell you, my dear accomplice, for 'tis a ninja secret." She graced this statement with a secretive wink. Kaoru rolled her eyes at her drama, then raised her hand and pointed towards the otherwise unnoticed door.

"We go through that door and keep going until it ends. There will be a fairly heavy iron door there, so I'll need what little strength you have to help me open it. I think they used to keep it locked, but I tried it yesterday and it was open. They must have forgotten about this secret passage, because no one uses it or seems to know about it except me." Her eyes began to gleam with a newfound excitement, and Misao grinned at her comrade; knowing that they were sharing the same feeling. She continued to explain to Misao what she would need to do.

The passage was dark, for there were no windows to let in the light of day, and there was no one to tend for torches. Kaoru was guided by her senses alone, for her eyes were hard-pressed to peer through such a thick darkness. Misao was slightly more at ease, she was used to moving around in the dark and her mobility was not impaired but the obscurity. It felt like they had been walking for hours until finally Kaoru felt her hand press against the cold exterior of a door. She grinned to herself in the darkness, excited for the adventure that lay ahead of them, even if she knew not what the purpose was.

She turned to Misao, and after a brief pause, asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes!" Her companion exclaimed, and Kaoru silent grin widened. Misao drew up beside her, and helped Kaoru push against the door. Despite Kaoru's warning that they door would be immensely heavy, it seemed to swing open easily with little effort on their part. The hurried on through, making sure that the door closed silently behind them. A twisting staircase descended into deep darkness in front of them, cold and uninviting, but they didn't hesitate. Their footsteps created a soft staccato beat upon the stone as they descended deeper and deeper into the castle, and soon their breath was twisting vapor in front of their faces, teasing them ahead.

Kaoru tried to slow her panting breath, only too aware of the silence of Misao behind her. She turned around another corner, no different from the others, and stopped. The stairway stopped, and a doorway framed an adjoining corridor. A flickering light emanating far off the side hinted at a lighted candle or torch. Kaoru pulse sped up in her chest.

She jumped slightly as Misao laid a hand on her shoulder, silently attracting her attention. Misao stepped in front of her, and slipped into the hallway. Her form was almost indiscernible in the dark of the corners, hidden in the place were the light didn't reach. A shadow within shadows.

With one deep breath in a futile attempt to calm herself down, she followed her friend.

As she had thought, a sole torch was lit a few yards away, a gleaming, pitiful light that hardly encompassed the long corridor. Faintly, she could hear the sound of running water. Misao took a few steps forward nearer to the light source, but still staying far enough away that her form was still indiscernible. Kaoru followed hesitantly, knowing that from here on in, it was Misao who was in charge. It made her slightly nervous.

In front of her, Misao suddenly stopped, her hand motioning behind for Kaoru to stop too. Then Kaoru heard the noise that must have stopped Misao in her tracks: voices. Faint, but gradually getting closer. Misao swore vehemently. But instead of turning back, her friend's form shot forward in a blur of speed and dashed around the corner.

Kaoru was shocked by this turn of events, and had to bite her tongue to stop her from calling out, "Misao!" She was only a few steps behind Misao as she turned around to follow her, and the sounds of combat had her pulling out her sword instinctively.

There were three guards, but Kaoru could see just by looking at them that they were lower rank soldiers. Already one was on the ground unconscious and the second one was in close combat with Misao. Kaoru charged the next one without a second thought, her sword flashing in the dim light. Misao's adversary hit the ground a fraction after hers.

But their skirmish had not gone without notice. Already Kaoru could hear the loud thump of running feet and agitated voices further down the corridor. Misao swore again but ducked into a narrow passageway that had been partially hidden from view. It was dark and damp; the smooth sound of running water became even louder and seemed to echo disconcertingly off the stone walls. Misao ran swiftly but made no sound, and Kaoru tried her hardest to do the same.

They hadn't been running for very long when Kaoru heard the distinct clatter of heavy footsteps behind her. In desperation, they sped up, abandoning silence for speed as the clattered through the damp corridor.

Kaoru skidded to the side when she saw Misao suddenly turn right. The passageway had opened up into what seemed to a division of sorts. By now Kaoru was panting, the exertion of the fight and their frantic run catching up with her. Ahead of her, Misao seemed to be considering something very deeply, as if she was having trouble making a decision. But she didn't have the time to linger.

A dozen disheveled guards appeared behind them, their weapons gleaming wickedly in the dim light, and their numbers were far too large for two worn out girls to even consider defeating. Misao's face was a mixture of anger and grim determination, and Kaoru realized that she must have come to same conclusion as she. They didn't have a chance.

Kaoru earlier hesitation came back to her in a rush, and with it, an awareness of her extreme stupidity. How could she have let this happen? They could either keep running until they reached a dead end, or try to hold their own in a fight. Both of these options had only one inevitable ending: they would either be killed, or worse, _captured _and left to the mercy of the Prince. And the Prince never showed mercy. Even Aoshi, with all his contacts and espionage skills could not hope to rescue them to whatever fate was in store for them if they ended up in the Prince's grasp.

And then Kaoru felt the heavy weight of despair crush her lungs, and she grit her teeth against the wave of hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm her. Misao beside her had not yet reacted to the wave of guards that was mere seconds away from descending upon them, and Kaoru knew that there was only one choice that the ninja girl could make. They would have to run.

It was the merest flicker of her hand underneath her tunic and suddenly Kaoru was engulfed by a wave of eye-numbing smoke. She felt a firm tug on her wrist, and she was pulled forward, stumbling and coughing. But Misao's gentle yet firm insistence kept her going forward, and Kaoru realized that Misao's distraction had gained them the proper means for an escape.

So she followed her because that was the only way to go now was _down_.

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A/N: Well? Seem interesting yet? If you have any questions, please bring them to my attention, I would like to make everything as understandable as possible, to a certain extent, of course. Thank you for reading!

-Urban


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